Portagee

She lives in New Bedford, and her dad's not around much and her mum calls her boyfriend a Portagee, a fuckin' greenhorn, and she says, Ma, he's 3rd generation, but her mum just rolls her eyes and fixes a drink, fills her glass with ice from the icemaker they have, pours some bourbon from the bottle on the glass-and-mirror shelf above the sink, turns on one of the gold seahorse faucets just a swoosh, and goes into the living room with the paper.

The Portagee sighed happily. He was home again.

What did the Portagee say when he opened a box of Cheerios? "Look, a box of doughnut seeds!"

“You damn, dumb Portagee,” he was saying, “How could you have fallen for one of the oldest tricks in the book?

Did you hear about the man who was half Portagee and half Italian? He made himself an offer he couldn't understand.

Melvin has a very Portagee accent.

The religious shrines that sprouted in front yards across St. Anthony's parish were too Portagee or greenhornish for my mother.